Technology is great…when it works, that is. When it does not work, well, then it is kind of a pain in the rear end. I am sure that most people would agree with that statement. It gives IT people a job, though, so I will not curse it too much. Jobs are important. That is an understatement during this pandemic that we are having.
Speaking of technology, I took an assessment this morning that had three separate parts to it. They were along the lines of interests and hobbies, how you think, and values. I was perfectly honest during the assessment. The result was heartbreaking, but reassuring at the same time. I had been trying for 16 years to get into the right career field. The results were five out of five stars for “Specialty Medical Doctor” and “Psychiatry”. I worked for 16 years to get the education and training I would need to get into medical school. I wanted to work as a psychiatrist for the Veteran’s Administration, helping fellow Veterans with mental illness. If it was not for my own mental illness — PTSD — I would be an M.D. right now. Right. Now. Instead, I am not. That is the heartbreaking part. I worked so hard and for so long to get there, too. I spent tens of thousands of dollars on my education and interviewed for innumerable scholarships and grants, many of which I received. I was good, but not good enough. I have trouble with standardized tests, and the MCAT was one such standardized test. They changed the MCAT recently, and I have not taken the new MCAT. Perhaps I should. It is expensive to register for and take, though, and I am concentrating my efforts in a different direction with further higher education in a different field entirely — one that can withstand the impossible, unpredictable episodes of PTSD and the Depression and Anxiety that come with it. Life itself sometimes seems impossible. In some ways, I am glad that I took that assessment, and in others, I am very sorry that I took it. I did not expect medicine to come up at all because I had not mentioned anything about it in my interests and hobbies. As a matter of fact, all I listed were “rock climbing” and “writing”. The truth, though, is that I have not moved on from medicine. I truly have not. I have been trying for four years, to no avail. I know my calling. I have a disability that prevents me from fulfilling my calling, though, and that is one of the most frustrating things I have ever dealt with in my life! I have an alternate calling, now, though, and it is climbing and blogging about climbing. That could potentially turn into a writing calling of some sort, which could lead to teaching, which is a calling that I hold in high esteem. I hold the calling of rock climber in high esteem, obviously, because it has saved my life. I just cannot bury the loss of my ability to become a psychiatrist, though. Over a decade and a half of higher education went into preparing to get into medical school. I fought through that and many things went sideways in that process, but I did it. I earned those two B.S. degrees and that M.S. degree. Now I am going to earn either an M.A. in English and Creative Writing or an M.F.A. in Creative Writing. I am waiting to consult with my advisor at SNHU concerning which degree program would be better for me at this point in my life and education. What I truly wish I could do is become a professional, sponsored rock climber. That would be the best ever! I am almost 40 and only began climbing four years ago, though. I can climb V3+ outdoors consistently and am working on linking the moves to an outdoor V5 so that I can send it. I am not in the best shape of my life, but I am working on it. The point, though, is that it is not likely that I will become any sort of professional climbing anything at this point in my life. I am okay with just climbing for fun and relaxation and stress relief and life itself, though. I am afraid that professional climbing would introduce an element of stress to climbing that may harm its positive and life-sustaining effects in my life. So I sit here in front of my MacBook Pro laptop computer with my Southern New Hampshire University cap on, looking through dirty glasses that need to be cleaned, writing what will become a blog post on lost dreams and found wonders until I hit the 1000-word mark and publish it for all to see on my blog. I want to address the found wonders part for a moment before I close this entry, though.
Found wonders. What do I mean by that? Well, had I been accepted into medical school and become a psychiatrist, I never would have been introduced to rock climbing by my current psychiatrist. I never would have “found” (or been directed to) that wonderment that I feel when the climbing just flows in the moment on the rock face and your body moves and your balance is in sync and the magic happens. That “found wonder” would have never happened for me. That “found wonder” has turned out to be absolutely and instantly addictive to me, and as I talk with more and more climbers, they feel the same. Found wonders. They are worth all of the pain and heartache and wandering that you have done in your life to find. Keep them close. Never lose them or forsake them. Those found wonders are precious beyond life itself because they keep life itself in check, especially when bad things happen. Yes, bad things are happening right now, and I have been off my game because I have been sick and there is a pandemic going on and I have not been able to climb. I will climb again, though, and my “found wonder” will return to me, and I will again have my soul.